


Innocent Intent

by LadySlytherin



Series: Smoochfest-2012/Holiday_Kisses-2013 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Slash, Smoochfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the little things that define a life and it’s the little things that change a life. A chance meeting between strangers in a bookstore, the secret you intend to take to your grave, the promise you make but don’t intend to keep...  and a child’s intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocent Intent

**Author's Note:**

> This was a pinch-hit for Smoochfest this year, so I apologize in advance if there are any discrepancies or inconsistencies within the plot; I did my best to avoid them. A huge thank you to my Beta, (CJ). She was lovely enough to agree to Beta my pinch-hit for me, which I appreciated so much.
> 
> Smoochfest was my first Fest ever and I loved it; it was such a wonderful experience. So a thank you to the mods of that for hosting such an awesome Fest. <3 <3 <3
> 
> ~ Lady S.

Scorpius Malfoy was six years old when he moved out of Malfoy Manor. He was the first Malfoy heir to ever do so... and Narcissa nearly screamed the Manor’s walls down over it. But Astoria refused to live with her husband for another day and Draco didn’t have the time to watch a child. So Astoria moved to a smaller – but no less elegant – house, not far from the Manor in Wiltshire. Narcissa visited often, bemoaning the fact that her grandson was being denied his rightful place in the Malfoy legacy. Astoria coolly retorted – on more than one occasion – that if her former husband could spare more than five minutes for his wife and son, they’d still be at the Manor.

 

Scorpius didn’t understand much of what was going on, but, by the time he was seven, he accepted that he didn’t live with his father anymore and probably never would. He also accepted that he didn’t see much of his father. Draco was always busy; he always had business to attend to or someplace “important” he had to be. And as the excuses piled up, Scorpius found himself wondering just how important _he_ was to his father. Not very, was the forlorn conclusion the little boy came to each time his father failed to show up when he said he would. Not very important at all.

 

And so it was that Scorpius found himself – on a lovely Saturday morning – in Flourish & Blotts bookstore with his mother. Draco had sent an owl that morning saying he couldn’t take Scorpius for the day because he had a business meeting. The owl had arrived 20 minutes _after_ Draco was supposed to have picked his son up. Astoria had stormed around for several minutes, tearing the letter to pieces while muttering under her breath about things Scorpius didn’t understand. Then she’d hurried him off to Diagon Alley with her for shopping.

 

Now Scorpius was working his way towards the middle of the outer-right wall of the building, where a lovely window seat overlooked a dismal little alley. Scorpius didn’t care much for the view, but the cushions on the bench were plush and comfy and no one ever bothered him when he sat there. It was his usual place to curl up and think while waiting for his mother to finish her browsing. The small blonde was quite distressed, upon reaching the window seat, to realize his favored spot was already occupied. A small boy – who Scorpius thought might be his age – was curled up there, clutching a copy of “The Tales of Beedle the Bard” and staring out the window.

 

The little boy had a tousled mop of black hair and – as Scorpius saw when that raven head turned towards him – vibrantly green eyes so bright they didn’t seem real. “Hi.” The boy said, smiling slightly as he locked his verdant eyes with Scorpius’s grey ones. “I’m Albus. What’s your name?”

 

“Scorpius.” The blonde answered. He pouted and added sullenly. “You’re in my spot. I sit here every time I come to the store.”

 

“Oh.” Albus frowned, then drew his legs – which had been sprawled across the window seat – up to his chest and smiled at Scorpius. “Well, there’s loads of room. Sit.”

 

Not quite sure what to make of the smiling, cheerful Albus, Scorpius sat as far from the other boy as he could. “Do you come here a lot?” Albus asked after several silent seconds passed with Scorpius studying his shoes while Albus studied him.

 

“Yes.” Scorpius answered, still looking at his feet. He swung his legs slightly, listening to the steady _thud-thud-thud_ of his heels against the wooden side of the window seat. “Mother likes to shop here. She’s very fond of books.”

 

“Oh.” Albus said again, nodding sagely and saying, with all the wisdom of a typical 7 year old, “My mum doesn’t read a lot but my Aunt ‘Mi does. It’s almost her birthday soon so Mum brought us to get her a book.”

 

Scorpius turned to stare at Albus. “I like books.” He said simply.

 

Albus nodded slowly. “I like books, too.” He clutched “Beedle’s Tales” a little tighter then smiled. “I don’t mind coming to the bookstore. Even if it is with Mum.”

 

“I go everywhere with Mother.” Scorpius confessed. “Father is too busy for me.”

 

“My dad’s busy a lot, too.” Albus said sympathetically, letting go of his book with one hand to pat the other boy’s arm lightly. “James – that’s my brother, James – he thinks that’s why Mum and Dad have different bedrooms now. Cause Dad is busy, I mean.”

 

Scorpius blinked his grey eyes very slowly, then tipped his head to the side and silently studied Albus before saying softly. “Mother and Father have different houses now.” When Albus’ green eyes widened, Scorpius added. “I think that’s worse than different rooms. Grandmother always yells about _‘the scandal’_ but I’m not sure what that means.”

 

Albus nodded again. “Dad won’t let Mum get a new house.” He confided in his new friend. “He says stuff I don’t understand, like _‘Think about the scandal!’_ and _‘What would people say?’_ and _‘Imagine the headlines!’_ whenever they fight about it. Mum gets mad because Dad forgets stuff.”

 

“Father forgets me.” Scorpius said to Albus, looking sad. “Today he remembered me but he was busy so he didn’t come. But sometimes he forgets me and I wait and wait but he never shows up. And then he and Mother yell when Father remembers again and tells her he was busy.”

 

“Dad forgot Mum’s birthday.” Albus admitted, looking nearly as sad as Scorpius. “My baby sister Lily thinks that’s why Mum wants to live somewhere else. Because Dad forgets things that matter to Mum, like her birthday.”

 

Scorpius considered this for a moment, then asked curiously. “Why do you think they don’t want to live in the same bedroom anymore?”

 

“Dad told me it’s cause they stopped loving each other.” Albus explained, looking strangely thoughtful for a seven year old – even one who was nearly 8, like Albus was. “I believe Dad cause he doesn’t ever lie to me. He says telling the truth is extra important. Even more than doing what grown-ups say and remembering not to mention magic to my cousins.”

 

Scorpius sighed softly. “Father lies.” He told the brunette quietly. “Father is always lying. He lies all the time. He says he’ll come and see me, but he doesn’t. Or he tells Mother he’ll take me someplace when she has stuff to do, but he never does.” Tears filled silver eyes and Scorpius stared hard at his shoes again; he didn’t want to seem like a baby to his new friend. “He lies and says he has work or meetings or important things to do. But Mother told Grandmother that Father isn’t really working. He just lies and says he is so she won’t yell.” Scorpius swallowed hard and added in a whisper. “Mother yells anyway.”

 

Albus felt sorry for the pale, miserable-looking little boy. “You should tell him not to lie.” He suggested with childish logic. “Tell him it makes you sad when he lies and he should stop.”

 

Just then, a small, red-haired little girl came around the corner of a bookshelf and placed her hands on her hips, glaring. “Mum says we leaving, Al.” She told him imperiously. “Come _on_.”

 

She turned and flounced off before Albus could reply, so he yelled “I’m coming, Mum!” as loud as he could before hopping off the window seat. Still holding his book, he turned to Scorpius with a small smile. “You really should tell your dad not to lie.”

 

“Albus!” A woman’s voice called out and the boy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Albus! We’ve got other things to do today!”

 

“Coming!” Albus yelled back over his shoulder. He gave another brief smile to Scorpius as he rushed off, calling out “Bye!” before disappearing towards the front of the store.

 

Scorpius sat on the window seat, looking out at the alley without really seeing it, until Astoria quietly came to fetch him. He didn’t know if the little boy named Albus – with his green eyes and easy smile – had any idea what he was talking about, but Scorpius supposed it was worth a shot. The next time he saw his father... Scorpius would make him _promise_ not to lie.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was nearly a week before Draco made time for his son. The Thursday following his meeting with the little boy named Albus in the bookstore, Scorpius sat sullenly on the floor of his playroom while his father stood over him. “Come now, Scorpius.” Draco said softly. “Just tell me what you’d like me to do to make it up to you.”

 

Scorpius nudged one of his toys – a Quidditch figurine – and it walked a few steps before stopping. He sighed and finally glanced up at his father. “You lied to me.” He said simply, his grey eyes accusing as he stared up at the imposing figure.

 

Draco sighed in aggravation and dragged a hand through his hair. “I did not, Scorpius. Something came up at the last minute. You know I’m very busy.”

 

Scorpius nudged the figurine again – this time with the toe of his shoe – and watched dispassionately as it fell over and flailed a bit before struggling to its feet and glaring up at him. Then he turned back to his father and said. “You lied. You always lie. You promise to do things with me and you never do and you say you want to see me but you never make time. You promise and promise but you never keep them.”

 

Draco stared down at his son in silence. What his son was saying was true. It wasn’t Scorpius’ fault; Draco wasn’t going to pin his avoidance on his son. But seeing Scorpius meant seeing Astoria and that was something Draco did his best to avoid at all costs. And he really was busy; he had numerous businesses and investments to oversee – both Muggle and Wizarding in nature. If he sometimes personally handled things that could easily have been overseen by an underling... well, that was his choice, wasn’t it? But he hadn’t realized his son was so hurt by his absence. Draco had rarely been in his own father’s presence while growing up and it had never bothered him very much, after all.

 

“I’m sorry.” Draco said, crouching down to his son’s level, heedless of his expensive charcoal-grey suit. “I really am, Scorpius. Tell me how to make it up to you.” He reached out to push the platinum blonde fringe out of his son’s eyes and smiled at the warm thrill he got each time he saw how much his son resembled him. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

Scorpius blinked wide eyes at his father, considering. He thought back to the day in the bookstore and what he’d decided. When he spoke, his voice was firm and demanding. “Promise not to lie.”

 

“What?” Draco said, shocked. “Scorpius, that’s... ”

 

He was cut off by his cell phone ringing. With a muttered curse word that he probably shouldn’t have uttered in his young son’s presence, Draco stood and tugged the phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the number and swore again, then flipped the phone open. “Malfoy.” He snapped.

 

He paused for a moment then growled. “No, that’s not... ” He stopped for a moment, listening, then snarled. “I said _no,_ Jamie! I can’t... ” He glanced down at Scorpius and saw his son was looking at him with disappointment etched into every line of his young face. “Yes, I understand that it’s important; I’m the one who set up the bloody thing in the first place, Jamie! But it was supposed to be _tomorrow_.” A brief pause, then. “No, of course I don’t want to cancel on him! Are you _insane?_ No, of course not. Yes. No. No. I...hold on.”

 

Draco covered the mouthpiece of the phone, holding it in front of his chest as he turned to Scorpius. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I’m going to have to go to London to deal with something. I’ll make it up to you this weekend. I promise.”

 

He put the phone back to his ear when Scorpius nodded and said. “Yes, fine. Tell Luke I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Yes. Absolutely. No. Alright. See you then.” He snapped the phone shut with another low growl.

 

He crouched down and touched his son’s arm. “I’m so sorry. This is very important, though. I’ve got to go deal with this merger I’ve been working on. But I’ll see you on Saturday, alright? No interruptions.”

 

Scorpius stared up at his father for a long moment, then said. “Promise you won’t lie anymore, Father.”

 

Draco took in the stubborn set to his son’s chin and the determined gleam in those grey eyes and decided the fastest way to leave without a tantrum was to agree. “Alright.” He said softly. “I promise not to lie anymore, Scorpius.”

 

Scorpius watched as a very faint blue light glowed around his father and smiled; Draco didn’t notice the glow at all. “Thank you.” Scorpius said, giving his father a quick hug. “Lying is bad.”

 

“I know.” Draco replied. He hugged his son for a moment then stood. “I’d better go tell your mother that I’ve been called away. I don’t have much time to get to London. Thank Merlin for magic.”

 

“Love you, Father.” Scorpius said softly, returning to playing with his toys.

 

“I love you too, Scorpius.” Draco said over his shoulder as he left the playroom.

 

He hurried down the stairs, smoothing his green silk tie and white shirt as he walked. As he entered the parlor where Astoria was reading a book and sipping tea, he carefully used his hands to straighten his hair out. “I’ve got to run to London.” He said as he walked towards the fireplace. “I’ve explained to Scorpius; I told him I’ll see him this weekend.”

 

“No, you won’t.” Astoria replied waspishly, lowering her book to give him a cool stare. “You’ll have some excuse, just like you do right now. What is it, Draco? A business meeting? A diplomat to entertain? An investment that needs care and attention?”

 

Draco opened his mouth to say it was a merger, just as he’d told Scorpius moments earlier. But somehow his mouth formed other words instead. “I’ve got a date with the nineteen-year old son of a wealthy Muggle businessman; he likes older men and blondes and I need him to convince his father to sell me a company I’m interested in.”

 

Astoria’s sea-foam-green eyes widened in shock and Draco slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. He didn’t know why he’d said that. “Well.” Astoria blinked rapidly, setting her book aside. “Are you telling me you’re willing to take some boy who’s more than ten years younger than you out to dinner, just to seal a business deal?”

 

“Yes.” Draco said, then he hissed angrily; he’d meant to deny it. He opened his mouth again and said. “I’d be willing to have sex with him, really, if that’s what it took.”

 

Astoria gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “I cannot believe you just said that!” She whispered, shocked. “Draco, are you feeling alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” Draco bit out from between clenched teeth. He glanced at his watch and added. “But I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.” He gave Astoria an odd look then added. “We’ll discuss this on Saturday, alright? I don’t have time right now.”

 

Before his ex-wife could say another word, Draco snatched a handful of Floo Powder from the box on the mantle, threw it into the flames, and disappeared into the fireplace after snarling out the address of his Penthouse suite in London. Astoria stared at the spot where Draco had been only a moment before, wondering what had just happened. She had grown used to Draco’s lies during the course of their marriage and their subsequent divorce. The sudden honesty was shocking and unexpected, to say the very least. She had to wonder how many of Draco’s “business meetings” had been seductions in the name of furthering his aims back when they’d still been married. She decided mere seconds later that she truly didn’t wish to know. She did, however, want to know why he’d suddenly decided to come clean. It didn’t make sense, not from any strategic viewpoint – at least, none that _she_ could think of. And Astoria didn’t like when things didn’t make sense.

 

“This is what I get for having married a fellow Slytherin.” She muttered to herself, picking her book back up. She shook her head and added. “Should have married a Hufflepuff; would have made my life a million times less complicated.”

 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco sat down across from the teenage boy; the Italian restaurant was upscale enough not to have anyone asking questions about the age difference between him and his companion. None of the staff would stare, either. A major plus, in Draco’s opinion. The young man had rich chestnut hair that was artfully cut and styled, and pleasant – if not remarkable – features. He wore a simple, dark blue button-up, a white tie, and black slacks. His blue eyes were calculating as they took in Draco’s suit – expensive and perfectly tailored to his lean frame. They moved deliberately over Draco’s aristocratic features, his piercing grey eyes, and his deliberately tousled platinum blonde hair, assessing.

 

“Do I meet your approval, Luke?” He purred, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner and smirking slightly. He knew he was gorgeous, after all.

 

Luke frowned and Draco momentarily thought it made him look like a petulant child. “I like blondes, Mr. Malfoy. Not bleached, but natural.” There was a faint whine to his voice that exuded a sense of wealthy self-entitlement. Draco himself had had that in his younger years; war and the Dark Lord had stripped it from him.

 

“I assure you, I’m a natural blonde.” Draco said calmly. “Both of my parents have the same distinctive shade of platinum hair.”

 

Draco pulled out his wallet and tugged out a picture of Lucius, Narcissa, and himself at about age 10 that he’d put a permanent ‘ _Immobilus_ ’ on for situations like this. He held out the photo, which Luke took skeptically. The young man studied the picture with interest. Both Draco and his parents were dressed in formal clothing, standing on the front steps of Malfoy Manor. Draco was sneering haughtily at the camera while Lucius looked cold and aloof and Narcissa looked beautiful, bored, and disdainful. They were the perfect picture of aristocratic superiority.

 

“You were quite a lovely-looking child.” Luke finally said as he handed the picture back. “And I see you’re being honest as well. I’ve never met anyone with hair as blonde as yours.” His eyes glinted with desire that made Draco want to sneer ; he felt vaguely ill, but ignored it. The boy was certainly not his type, but he wasn’t going to lose this business opportunity. He was, after all, a Slytherin.

 

“Thank you, Luke.” Draco replied, smiling warmly. “Shall we order?” He raised a hand to gesture for a waiter to come over, but Luke grabbed his wrist. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

 

“I think we should just take something to go.” Luke said in a low voice that Draco assumed was meant to be seductive; he had to suppress a snort of laughter. “I’d love to show you my flat.” Luke’s voice dropped down to a whisper as he leaned forward and shot Draco a look from under his lashes that was no more seductive than his voice had been. “Do you want me, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Draco smiled lazily, let his eyes darken (a talent he’d perfected while still at Hogwarts), and opened his mouth to purr a confirmation. Instead, he said. “Not particularly, no.”

 

Luke drew back sharply as though he’d been slapped. “What?” he demanded, looking near to tears at Draco’s rejection. For his part, Draco was torn between horror and confused shock. “What do you mean, you don’t want me?”

 

Draco opened his mouth, already scrambling to cover up his unexplainable _faux pas_ , and spoke seemingly without any input from his brain. “I don’t find the idea of sleeping with an over-indulged brat attractive, Luke. You’re clearly whiney, spoiled, and – let’s face it – little more than a child. I certainly wouldn’t _enjoy_ shagging you. You’d probably spend the whole time making ridiculous faces that you ignorantly assume are sexy.”

 

Luke went from teary to furious in a matter of seconds. “How dare you!” He spat, his face contorting with his rage. “No one speaks to me like that!”

 

“Which is probably why you’re so unbearable to be around.” Draco drawled smoothly, though inside his head he was screaming and freaking out. “I prefer _men_ who are confident enough to take a tongue-lashing when they’ve earned it. Schoolboys who can’t handle criticism aren’t exactly worth the bother.”

 

Draco watched Luke’s face mottle red and scrambled for something to say to make him calm down and stay. Just as the boy stood, Draco blurted out. “I’ll still shag you, you know.”

 

Luke paused for a moment, staring at Draco as though the blonde were a new species he’d never encountered before. “Are you fucking shitting me?” He snarled after a moment. “You insult me repeatedly and then say you’ll still shag me? You must _really_ want this deal with my father.” He raked a disdainful gaze over Draco and sneered. “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t touch whores, no matter how gorgeous they are.”

 

Draco watched Luke Thompson storm off – taking any hopes of buying out Thompson Textiles with him – and found himself reluctantly impressed. The kid certainly knew how to make an exit. And his parting “ _whore”_ comment had been a good one. Draco’s skin was thick enough that it didn’t bother him, but a weaker person would have been devastated by such a remark, he was sure; Draco had to admire it. The kid might not have “seductive” down, but he could certainly manage disdain and disgust just fine.

 

Now, Draco realized, all he had to do was figure out why he was suddenly blurting out the truth. It was almost as though someone had slipped him Veritaserum, which he knew wasn’t possible. He was far too careful about his food and drink. So what could be the cause? Draco sat straighter in his chair as he recalled his conversation with his son. No... surely _Scorpius_ couldn’t have done this to him? Draco wasted no more time. He stood and hurried out of the restaurant, grateful he and Luke hadn’t yet ordered. He had to get back to the Manor; he had research to do.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was pacing the library in frustration. He’d been researching accidental magic for nearly two days and he still hadn’t found anything like his current situation. He’d taken to avoiding his parents; he was still blurting out the truth at every opportunity. It was Saturday and he was supposed to go and talk to Astoria at some point today, as well as see his son. He didn’t want to do that, however, until he knew what was happening. Hopefully it was something easily fixed.

 

“Problem?” The velvety voice of Severus Snape spoke from a portrait on the wall. Draco shot him a vexed glare and resumed his pacing. “Come now, Draco. Tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help.”

 

“I can’t stop telling the truth.” Draco said, moving to stand before his godfather’s portrait. “Scorpius made me promise not to lie. I agreed, because he looked ready to have a tantrum and I had no time to deal with such nonsense.” Draco’s voice was bitter. “Except it seems the promise was _binding_ , as I’ve been unable to lie since then. It’s ruined a business deal!”

 

Severus snorted, earning him another glare from Draco. “It sounds to me, Draco, as though your son managed to use _‘I_ _nnocentis_ _I_ _ntenta_ _M_ _agicas_ _’_ on you.” When Draco opened his mouth to speak, Severus smirked and said. “Go look it up, brat.”

 

He then stood and walked out of his portrait, leaving Draco to yell after him. “Unhelpful wanker!”

 

Two hours later, Draco finally found the correct book.

 

 _“ ‘I_ _nnocentis_ _I_ _ntenta_ _M_ _agica_ _s’ – commonly referred to as_ _Innocent Intent - is a rare form of accidental magic that uses a single person as a catalyst rather than having a caster. The catalyst is always someone innocent – someone with pure motives and no desire to harm. Usually the catalyst is a child, though on occasion is has been an elderly person or someone who is not entirely mentally sound. The catalyst will have a wish or desire that is pure in motive, usually something to do with kindness, honesty, or generosity._

_“The person who is affected by Innocent Intent is usually almost immediately aware that magic is affecting them. They will say or do things that are out of character with no control over the behavior, which makes the magic rather obvious. Thankfully, the nature of Innocent Intent makes the magic completely harmless, regardless of the way in which it manifests.”_

 

Draco snorted at that. Harmless? Hardly. He wouldn’t call ruining his business dealings _harmless_. He resumed reading, hoping to find a way to counter it.

 

_“Innocent Intent is one of the most unusual forms of magic because it happens spontaneously, only when the precise requirements are met. Because of this, the catalyst has no control over how the magic works – unlike with magic that has a caster. It is also because of this that Innocent Intent has no counter-measure. It cannot be undone. Instead, it wears off on its own. The usual time for Innocent Intent magic to last is a week, though it has been known to last longer if the magic felt it was necessary. It has also worn off in a shorter time, but there are only two recorded cases of that happening.”_

Draco stared at the book in horror. A week? That meant he had 5 more days of being completely honest to deal with. Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled out his phone and flipped it open, calling his assistant with a few quick button presses. “Jamie. It’s Draco. Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I can’t come in to work until next Friday. Don’t ask why.” There was a pause, then. “Yes, cancel everything. That’s right, Jamie, I mean it. _Everything.”_ There was another, slightly longer, pause. Then Draco paled drastically. “When? Well, what did you tell them? You... _what?!_ ” He screamed, horrified. “No! No, you _never..._ I don’t _care_ that they’re Aurors, Jamie! Are you... ” Draco sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple as he tried to calm himself, then said quietly. “Yes, fine. Nothing to be done about it now. Just... start rescheduling everything for after Friday. Yes. Goodbye.”

 

Draco shut his phone and glanced back at the book. Damn. Now was _not_ a good time for Aurors to be sniffing around any of the Malfoy businesses. Not a good time at all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco stepped gracefully out of the fireplace and into Astoria’s parlor. She looked up from her book in surprise. “Draco!” She exclaimed, wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

 

Draco shot her an annoyed look as he brushed off his black casual robes. “I told you I would come and talk to you today and see Scorpius, remember?”

 

“Well, of course, but... ” Astoria was looking at him incredulously. “I just didn’t expect you to actually _show up_ , Draco. You never do, after all.” Seeing the anger in her ex-husband’s silver eyes, she hastily gestured to a settee and said. “Please, sit. I’ll have an elf fetch some tea.”

 

Draco sat on the small and very delicate-looking blue and white striped settee while Astoria snapped her fingers for an elf and requested tea immediately. They were silent until the elf returned with a tea cart and Astoria had poured for them both. “I’m sorry.” Draco said softly. When Astoria looked up at him in surprise, he added. “For everything, ‘Ria. Really.”

 

Astoria swallowed hard, but nodded. “I’m sorry as well, Draco.” She said quietly, setting her teacup down on the cart. “I know things haven’t been easy since... well, since I left. But regardless of how things are between us, you need to spend time with your son.”

 

“I know.” Draco replied, his voice still soft. “I... ” He glanced down at his tea, then sighed and looked up to meet Astoria’s eyes. “I trust you, ‘Ria. I know you won’t gossip about me or betray a confidence. So I’m going to explain something to you and I want you to listen to the whole story before you say anything or ask any questions, alright?”

 

Astoria nodded, her dark curls bobbing around her pretty face, and Draco explained everything that had happened. Scorpius’ demand for a promise, his disastrous “date” with Luke Thompson, his research, how “ _I_ _nnocentis_ _I_ _ntenta_ _M_ _agicas_ _”_ worked... all of it. She listened, her eyes wide and her lips parted in a little “O” of surprise but completely silent. She nodded a few times at appropriate moments, to show she was still paying attention, but Draco could feel the shock rolling off of her in waves.

 

“So, what you’re saying,” She murmured when he finally finished his story. “Is that you cannot lie until sometime Thursday evening?”

 

“As far as I know.” Draco replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Astoria had a gleam in her eyes that he didn’t like. “I can avoid answering if I’m cautious about what I say and how I phrase it, but I can’t tell an outright lie. If I _try_ to lie, I blurt out the absolute truth with no control over it.”

 

Astoria pursed her lips thoughtfully, then asked in a casual tone. “So, Draco... what made you agree to marry me in the first place?”

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “Really, ‘Ria. What in Merlin’s name makes you think I’m going to answer that question?”

 

Astoria’s light green eyes were somber as they locked with Draco’s steel-grey ones. “Because you owe me.” She told him, her voice low but firm. “After everything you put me through while we were together... after all of the lying and cheating and avoidance... Draco, you owe me this much. I deserve to know the truth.”

 

Draco set his teacup down on the coffee table and said softly. “You were perfect.” When Astoria simply stared at him he sighed and continued. “You were from a neutral Pureblood family. You were young enough that you didn’t have to witness everything I did during the second war, but old enough to have seen enough that you understood when I was tense or angry about things. You’re elegant and graceful and poised. You’re beautiful and intelligent and witty.”

 

Draco glanced at the fireplace, studying the flames as he spoke – slower, this time. “You were raised as I was. You understood the traditions of Pureblood Wizarding families and you could easily fit yourself into the social circles I moved in since you’d been moving in them your whole life as well.” Draco shook his head and looked back at Astoria. “I said you were perfect, but that’s not entirely true. The truth is, I _thought_ you were perfect.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Astoria admitted, her fingers restlessly smoothing her apple-green dress robes in a movement that looked artful and elegant rather than fidgety.

 

Draco’s forehead creased as he thought, trying to put it into words. “I had assumed you understood what was expected of the wife of a Pureblood; the wife of a _Malfoy_. I assumed you realized about my social and political and business expectations. And I thought you understood what was expected of you in turn.” He shook his head, staring intently at his ex-wife’s beautiful face. “When we started fighting, I realized that I had been wrong. You and Daphne been raised differently than Pansy and Tracey and Millicent were. I just hadn’t noticed in time.”

 

Astoria’s eyes frosted over and her tone was cool. “What you mean, Draco, is that I was expected to demurely fold my hands when I wanted to clench them into fists. I was to curve my lips into an indulgent smile when I wanted to bare my teeth and snarl. I was to avert my eyes from things I was to pretend I hadn’t seen, rather than glaring in anger.”

 

“I don’t know what... ”

 

“Don’t give me that, Draco.” Astoria cut him off, annoyed. “We both know what I’m talking about. I was never supposed to wonder where you were on the nights you didn’t come home. I was supposed to pretend not to notice when you came home from a _business_ meeting and your hair was tousled or your shirt was buttoned wrong. I wasn’t allowed to say anything when you came in late to dinner, smelling of sweat and sex and _man_.”

 

The young witch’s hands fisted angrily in the delicate fabric of her robe without her noticing, bunching it slightly just above her knees so the hem raised an inch or so, revealing her bare feet. “I was expected to ignore the potion you needed to take before coming to my bed. Just as I was expected to ignore how my pregnancy and the subsequent birth of your son and heir stopped those visits altogether.” At Draco’s guilty, embarrassed look, she snorted softly and chastised in scornful amusement. “Really, Draco. Did you truly expect me not to notice? Did you think I wouldn’t realize you couldn’t abide the sight of my body, with all its curves and softness? I’m far from stupid and _innocence_ is not the same thing as _ignorance_ , you know.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Draco told her earnestly. His eyes pleaded for understanding. “I just... I didn’t realize you couldn’t live that way. I would have... I’d have chosen someone else, ‘Ria. I’d never have put you through all of it.”

 

“You’ve explained why I was supposedly a good choice.” Astoria said softly. “But not why you chose _me_ , in particular.” She tipped her head to the side, her gaze assessing. “I would have thought – as everyone did –

that you’d marry Daphne or Tracey. Someone delicate and blonde and pale and with either grey or blue eyes. A perfect match for the Malfoy looks.”

 

Draco’s gaze moved over Astoria. From her peach-toned skin and her dark brown curls to her green eyes and her height – which, at 5’8” nearly matched Draco’s height of 5’9” – she was the antithesis of every Malfoy bride going back 11 generations. “I chose you deliberately.” He said softly. “Because of your darker coloring and such.”

 

“Why?” She repeated.

 

“I thought it would make sex more palatable if you were closer to my personal tastes.” Draco admitted candidly, in a way he never would have if not for the magic surrounding him. But Astoria was right; she deserved the truth. “It didn’t work, obviously.” His tone was dry and a little bitter. “Though I suppose it’s my own fault for not having chosen a wife with a more... athletic build.”

 

Astoria snorted softly. “Yes, I suppose my curves made things more difficult, considering.” She favored Draco with a small smile. “I do wish you’d been honest from the start. Perhaps... well, perhaps we could have come to a better arrangement.” When his eyes widened, she gently chided. “No, I don’t think a marriage would ever have worked between us. But perhaps I would have agreed to bear your heir anyway and we could have managed things clinically... ” She gave him a stern look and added. “In a way that didn’t destroy our friendship like our marriage did.”

 

“I am sorry.” Draco repeated what he’d said when they’d first sat down. “It’s not something I was raised to discuss, ‘Ria. It... well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

 

Astoria shook her head sadly. “No, I don’t suppose it does.” She gave him another small smile. “Now, why don’t you... ”

 

She was cut off by a loud crack as one of her pillowcase-clad house-elves appeared. “Letty be sorry, Mistress.” The elf squeaked, curtseying. “Aurors be here to see Mistress’s ex-husband. Letty is leaving them in the foyer. Is Letty to be telling them to leave?”

 

Astoria met Draco’s eyes and raised one slim eyebrow in question. After a moment’s hesitation, Draco sighed and said. “No, Letty. That’s quite alright. Send them in.”

 

Letty glanced at Draco with wide black eyes, then turned back to Astoria. She inclined her head gracefully in agreement and Letty curtseyed again. “Letty is being right back with the Aurors, Mistress.” She cracked out again immediately.

 

Astoria smiled slyly at Draco and purred. “Well... this ought to be interesting, Draco. I’m so glad I’m going to be present for this.”

 

“I just bet you are.” Draco returned wryly, his lips curving upwards as well. Then he sighed and leaned back on the settee and waited for the Aurors.

 

Draco watched, dread settling heavily in his stomach like a lead ball, as the two Aurors entered the room behind Letty moments later. The first one was a young man who looked barely out of training; Draco placed him at about 21 or 22 years old. He had sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes and somewhat mousey features. Draco couldn’t help the sneer that curled his lip at the disdainful look the young Auror was giving him. The second Auror was the one who made Draco feel vaguely ill. Harry Potter. His dark hair was still as messy as ever and his hideous glasses were still present, hiding his green eyes. Draco scanned Potter’s dark blue Auror robes, locating the pips that denoted his rank. Rank that the other, younger Auror didn’t have, Draco noticed.

 

Potter was clearly the senior Auror; his rank showed him to be second only to whoever the current Head Auror was. He wondered how someone as high-ranking as Potter had gotten saddled with what was clearly a rookie. He swiftly dismissed the thought as unimportant. He smirked easily at Potter and his companion, not standing as he said. “Well, Aurors... how may I help you?”

 

“Malfoy.” Harry said politely. “This is Auror Bowers. We just have a few questions for you.”

 

“And you felt it was absolutely necessary to track me down on a Saturday to ask them?” Draco asked, his voice a bit colder now. “How delightfully dedicated of you, Potter.” He scowled and added. “Or should I say, _Auror_ Potter?”

 

“I’ve been Potter to you since we were eleven, Malfoy.” Dry amusement laced Harry’s voice, and his lips quirked upwards into a wry half-smile. “No need to go adding honorifics now.” Draco couldn’t help the small answering smile that graced his own lips; Potter and he had always understood each other, even if they hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye.

 

Suddenly the little rookie spoke up, anger clear in his voice and on his face. “We had to track you down on a Saturday, _Malfoy_ , because your shifty little assistant insisted you weren’t in the office yesterday – or today – despite everyone knowing you’re always working.”

 

Draco bristled at the way the Auror spat his name and, ignoring Harry’s soft reprimand to the other Auror of _“Tim, don’t...”_ he snapped icily. “Considering that you are currently speaking to me while standing in my ex-wife’s parlor – which is decidedly _not_ my office – I think we can safely assume that my assistant, Jamie, was not being _shifty_ when speaking to you. Clearly I am _not_ at the office.”

 

Bowers flushed a mottled and unattractive shade of dark red, but Astoria spoke before he could. “Actually, Draco, this isn’t a parlor. It’s a drawing room.” Her eyes sparkled and her smile was edgy and just a little bit dangerous as she added. “A common mistake, actually.”

 

Draco nodded sagely, looking thoughtful. “Thank you ever so much for your instruction in this matter, ‘Ria. I admit that I’ve always had a bit of trouble remembering such trifling details.”

 

“Oh, think nothing of it.” Astoria smiled indulgently at him and added. “As I said, it’s a common mistake and thus entirely forgivable.”

 

Looking mournful, Draco spoke with the air of someone confessing a dreadful secret. “In truth, when I was younger, I spent several months referring to Mother’s morning room as a receiving room before she finally corrected me. I was _terribly_ embarrassed, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

 

Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Harry bit his lip, his green eyes dancing with mirth. Clearly the Auror was struggling not to laugh at the antics of the Slytherins in front of him. Bowers, however, didn’t take things nearly as well. Apparently the man had no sense of humor. Or, Draco thought, perhaps he just didn’t have a _Slytherin_ sense of humor. Just as Astoria opened her mouth to say something else, Bowers cut her off.

 

“You should leave the room, Mrs. Malfoy.” He snapped angrily. “We need to ask your husband a few questions now.”

 

Astoria turned eyes the color of frost over new leaves on the man and said coldly. “Firstly Auror Bowers, my name is _Ms. Greengrass_. Secondly, Draco is my _ex_ -husband. And thirdly, this is _my_ house and I have no intention of going anywhere, thank you very much.”

 

“She can stay.” Harry said firmly before Bowers could say anything. When the other Auror stared at Harry in shock, he added. “They aren’t married now, but they _were,_ Tim. I’ve got a feeling that they’ve got no secrets between them.”

 

Astoria laughed softly, giving Harry an intrigued smile. “I wouldn’t say _no_ secrets, Auror Potter. But I appreciate you allowing me to stay.” Harry inclined his head and she added. “Would you like some tea then, Auror Potter? Or a scone?”

 

She deliberately left Bowers out of the invitation for refreshments and Harry didn’t miss that fact. Draco watched as Potter bit his lower lip again, stifling laughter for the second time. “No, thank you. I don’t expect to be here long at all. And please, call me Harry.”

 

“And you may call me ‘Ria.” She said graciously, before patting the spot next to her on the divan. “Please, sit. Have some tea.”

 

Draco stared in surprise as his wife offered Potter the right to use her childhood nickname. Only her parents, her sister, her best friend, and Draco had ever been given that permission before. Narcissa wasn’t even allowed to. Draco didn’t quite know what to think about her giving Harry Potter that right. It was baffling, to say the least.

 

“Alright, then. ‘Ria it is.” Harry smiled warmly at Astoria. “And still, no thank you on the tea.” He turned to Draco and added. “It’s really just a few questions, Malfoy. We’ll be out of your way in no time.”

 

Draco ground his teeth together, but forced his lips into a polite smile. He raised one pale eyebrow and spread his hands in a gesture meant to convey indulgence and patience. “Ask away, Potter.”

 

Harry drew a small pad and a Muggle biro out of his robe pocket and flipped through a few pages after clicking the pen’s tip out. He tapped the point against the paper and glanced up, locking eyes with Draco as he spoke. “We’re currently looking into Abra’s Apothecary and... ”

 

“I don’t own that.” Draco said, looking surprised. This was about _Abra’s_? Of all the businesses... well, at least it was one that Draco’s hands were technically clean on.

 

Bowers looked ready to start casting Unforgivables he was so furious; he snarled at Draco. “Look, we know it’s a Malfoy business so don’t try lying! It won’t get you anywhere!”

 

“Tim... ” Harry warned, his voice low and annoyed.

 

“He’s trying to lie to us!” Bowers spat; literally, actually, if the disgusted look on Potter’s face was anything to go by. “You can’t just let him _lie!”_

 

Draco wondered how Potter put up with such an utter imbecile every day before recalling that the Gryffindor had tolerated Ron Weasley as his best friend for their entire time at Hogwarts. As far as he knew, they were _still_ friends, actually. So perhaps it wasn’t such a hardship for him. Draco glanced at the impatience and fury stamped across Potter’s face and changed his mind; Potter clearly couldn’t stand his partner. Interesting.

 

“I assure you, I’m not lying.” Draco said icily; he found it highly ironic that he was being accused of lying, considering the circumstances. “I never said Abra’s isn’t owned by the Malfoy family, Auror Bowers. I said it isn’t owned by _me_.” He looked away from the annoying little man and met Harry’s verdant gaze. “My Father owns Abra’s, Potter. I suggest any questions you have would be better directed towards him.”

 

“We intend to question Lucius later, Malfoy.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But I’ve got questions for you as well.” He raised an eyebrow at Draco, and the blonde nodded once. “Do you have anything to do with Abra’s at all?”

 

Draco gritted his teeth, wishing he could lie. Unable to, he said stiffly and carefully. “I have been known to brew some of the more complex potions when the demand is great and the supplier is unable to keep up. I _am_ a Potions Master, after all.”

 

Harry nodded, scribbling away with the biro as he asked. “Which potions have you made?”

 

Draco sighed and considered if he could get away with a partial truth. “More than a few, Potter. I certainly can’t remember them all off the top of my head.” When Bowers opened his mouth – no doubt to spew something nasty – Draco added. “The one I’m most commonly called on to brew is the Wolfsbane Potion since I’m one of only three Masters in the UK capable of brewing it. Polyjuice. Veritaserum. And quite a few others. If you like, I can have my assistant compile a complete list for you.”

 

Draco grinned as he said that; it was true. He _could_ have Jamie write up a full list. That didn’t mean he was _going_ to. Bowers glared at him. “He’s avoiding the question, Harry!”

 

Harry made an aggravated noise. “Tim, shut up or go wait in the foyer.” He snapped, glaring at the younger man over the top of his glasses. “I know how to question someone.” When Bowers pressed his lips together in anger, Harry turned back to Draco. “Sorry, Malfoy.” He muttered, rolling his shoulders in an obvious attempt to relieve tension.

 

“It’s quite alright.” Draco replied softly, puzzled by the apology but appreciative of it. Not many people apologized to him these days; he was just Death Eater scum in the eyes of most people. “You certainly can’t be blamed for the stupidity that comes out of other people’s mouths.” Feeling a bit off-center by this friendly version of Potter, he added snidely. “You’ve got enough coming out of your own mouth, I suppose, without adding to it with the nonsense spewed by those around you.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes again, looking weary. “Right, Malfoy. Owl me that list of potions as soon as you can; if I don’t have it by Tuesday I’ll have to track you down to see what the hold-up is.” He flipped a page in his notepad and continued with his questions. “Have you ever handled any of the business deals for Abra’s? Say, while Lucius was in Azkaban?”

 

Draco tensed at the mention of his father’s imprisonment, but answered anyway. “No, Potter. Father’s business dealings were handled by a team that consisted of a broker, a solicitor, and a manager while he was incarcerated. I had nothing to do with any of it. That includes Abra’s.”

 

Harry nodded. “Last question.” He glanced up and added. “For now, anyway.” He paused for a brief moment, then said. “What do you know about black market potions?”

 

Draco stared at Harry in silence for several long moments. Finally he answered, carefully weighing his words. “Black  market potions are usually illegal only in the sense that their sale is supposed to be carefully regulated and controlled by the Ministry. The potions themselves are not illegal to own or to brew; they are simply illegal to buy, sell, or use without the proper paperwork.”

 

Harry snorted softly, staring intently at Draco. “Lovely, Malfoy. Now tell me what you know about Abra’s dealings in black market potions.”

 

“I told you, Potter. I have nothing to do with Abra’s, beyond brewing certain potions for them.” He met Harry’s gaze unflinchingly. “If they are selling regulated potions illegally then I can assure you that I’ve had nothing to do with it.”

 

Harry studied Draco’s face for a moment, his gaze piercing. Then he nodded and flipped his pad shut, tucking it back in his pocket along with the biro. “Alright then. If we have any further questions we’ll contact you. Have a nice day, Malfoy.” He inclined his head politely to Draco, then turned to smile charmingly at Astoria. “It was lovely to meet you, ‘Ria.”

 

“And you as well, Harry.” Astoria smiled sweetly at Harry. “If you could, I’d love for you to come for tea tomorrow.” She saw the hesitation on his face and added. “Bring your children, if you like. Scorpius could stand to socialize a bit more, really.”

 

“Oh, I couldn’t bring them.” Harry said, flushing. “They’ve got plans with their mother and some of their cousins. But... ” He sighed, looking torn for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose I could come to tea. If you’re certain.”

 

Astoria glanced slyly over at Draco and purred. “Oh, I’m certain, Harry. Quite certain.” She then turned to give Bowers a cool look and added. “Auror Bowers, if I never see you again I can assure you it will be a decade too soon for my liking.”

 

Bowers bristled, then sneered. “Likewise, Miss Greengrass.” He spat. Turning hateful eyes on Draco, he added. “And you, Malfoy... well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. Hopefully behind bars.”

 

Draco sneered right back and did it with _much_ more finesse and poise. “Keep dreaming, Auror Bowers. I’ve done nothing wrong. Dig and snoop all you like; my hands are clean.”

 

Harry sighed heavily. “And on that _lovely_ note, we’ll be leaving.” He grabbed Tim by the arm and forcibly hauled him out of the room, saying over his shoulder. “I remember the way out; no worries! Have a lovely day!”

 

Draco watched Astoria watch Harry go; he didn’t like the calculating look on her face. “What are you thinking, ‘Ria?”

 

Her dark pink lips curved softly upwards and she turned the full force of her light green eyes on him, saying. “I think, Draco... that I have a marked resemblance to Harry Potter in terms of coloring.” She watched as Draco’s face went carefully blank and added. “The coloring you said you chose me for, since it fit your _personal preferences_. Don’t you agree?”

 

Draco glared at her and said stiffly. “I do my best not to think about any resemblance anyone might have to Harry Potter.”

 

“Oh, I just bet.” Astoria’s amusement was clear. “Really, Draco. Harry Potter?” She snickered softly and inquired. “How long?”

 

Draco pursed his lips, refusing to say anything. After a long silence, Astoria seemed to realize this was far more serious than she’d originally imagined. She sobered quickly and spoke gently. “I oughtn’t to have laughed, Draco. I’m sorry. Please... tell me?”

 

The blonde huffed out an angry little breathe and said. “Tell you what, ‘Ria? That I find the man so infuriating that I don’t know whether I want to choke him or snog him? Fine. I admit that. He’s bloody well gorgeous and anyone who says otherwise is blind or lying.” Draco’s face twisted with self-loathing as he continued bitterly. “I was enraptured the first time I saw him, standing in Madam Malkin’s and looking more lost and alone than anyone I’d ever seen. I was in awe the first time I heard him speak Parseltongue and in lust the first time I saw him fly on his Firebolt.”

 

“I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t watch him.” Draco’s words were spilling out now. It seemed once he started he couldn’t stop; the words just kept tripping off his tongue. At least he knew Astoria would never tell anyone. “I was obsessed all through school. Potter this and Potter that and everyone believed I hated him but in reality I just wanted his attention. I just wanted him to _see me_.”

 

Astoria felt tears brimming in her eyes as Draco’s face turned wistful; his eyes were dark and full of longing and pain. “When he finally started noticing me in sixth year... paying attention and watching me with the same driving passion that I had always devoted to him... well, I didn’t want him to. I was cracking under the pressure of a mission from the Dark Lord and he was seeing me fall apart. And for the first time, I _hated_ him. I absolutely hated him.”

 

Draco looked away from his ex-wife; he turned to stare at the Ormolu Clock on the mantel instead. “I hated him.” He whispered, his voice low and furious. “And it was horrible. And then he disappeared and when he got captured and brought to my house I lied to protect him. Said I didn’t recognize him... ” Draco snorted, shaking his head. “I’d know Potter if I were bound, gagged, and blindfolded in a room full of people.”

 

“I’d know him anywhere.” Draco admitted, sounding quietly ashamed. “And then... he saved me. There was smoke and heat and the Fiendfyre was getting closer. It was everywhere; burning and scorching and destroying. I was so afraid and suddenly I was on the broom with him and I was pressed against his back and holding him and... and... ”

 

Draco’s mouth moved silently and Astoria was suddenly kneeling on the floor before the settee, her hands clasping his. Her green eyes were soft and sympathetic when he looked down at her. Her whole face was open and gentle. It was full of acceptance and understanding. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze; the silent gesture conveyed both encouragement and support. When Draco still didn’t speak, Astoria finally did.

 

“Tell me, Draco.” She entreated softly. “Finish this.”

 

“I loved him.” He confessed, squeezing his eyes shut and looking utterly wretched. “ _Love_ him, really, since I didn’t stop. He saved me, when no one else would have bothered. I don’t even know why. Anyone else would have let me burn. No one would have blamed him if he had.” Draco opened his eyes and added softly. “Not even me.”

 

Draco stared at her, grey eyes piercing. “When they dueled... the Dark Lord and Potter, I mean. During the final battle. It wasn’t a duel, really... not as such. More like a terribly confusing conversation and each of them cast only a single spell in the end. But the Dark Lord... he said, to Potter: ‘ _nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse.’_ And it wasn’t true. If I’d had a second in which to do so, I would have thrown myself between them.” Draco let out a short bark of self-deprecating laughter before he said. “He saved me because he’s the hero, ‘Ria. But I’d have willingly died for him because I love him. That’s how pathetic I am.”

 

“Oh Draco... ” She whispered mournfully, peering up at him. “Don’t you see?” Astoria’s voice and eyes pleaded with him. “Draco, Harry didn’t ever think you were pathetic. He knew you were _worth_ saving. He realized there was more to you than what everyone else saw. You said you would have known him anywhere. Don’t you think he knew that? Don’t you think he realized you lied to protect him?” She squeezed his hands tighter. “Draco, he... he gave you a second chance when no one else would. He looked past everything that lay between you and saw that you _deserved_ a second chance.”

 

She gave him a tentative smile and added. “Draco, I think that anyone in your position – being saved and offered another chance by a single person when no one else would have – would have fallen in love. It’s understandable. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“I’m _not_ ashamed!” Draco snapped, jerking his hands away from hers. He stood and moved swiftly away from her, glaring. “I’m _not._ I just don’t see the point in dwelling on any of it. How I feel about him doesn’t change anything. _Why_ I feel that way doesn’t, either. It just is. There’s no reason to think about it or wish for things I can never have.” He met her eyes unflinchingly and said in a cold voice. “Harry Potter belongs to someone else. He always has.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Astoria said quietly, still kneeling on the floor. She looked terribly sad all of a sudden. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t realize... ”

 

“I know.” Draco cut her off. “I’m going to go see Scorpius for a bit.” He gave her a sad smile. “May I stay for supper?”

 

She smiled wanly back, feeling affection for Draco that she’d thought was gone forever. “Of course you may, Draco. I’d like it very much if you stayed.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Astoria smiled at Harry as Letty led him into the drawing room on Sunday afternoon. Scorpius looked up from where he was laying on his stomach on the floor, drawing with colored pencils. “Hello, ‘Ria.” Harry said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

“And you, Harry.” She replied, gesturing towards the settee Draco had occupied the previous day. “Sit, please. This is mine and Draco’s son, Scorpius.” She added, gesturing to the small blonde boy. “Scorpius, this is Auror Harry Potter.”

 

Scorpius stood and sketched a quick bow, smiling sweetly. “Hello.” He moved a few steps closer, tipping his head to the side as he peered at Harry’s face. “I met your son.”

 

Harry was startled. “Did you really?” He asked, shooting Astoria a baffled look before turning back to the angelic child. “When was this?”

 

“A couple weeks ago, at the bookstore.” Scorpius answered, moving closer and taking a biscuit off the tea cart. Astoria rolled her eyes, since Scorpius should have been eating at least a few of the savories before he dipped into the sweets, but she said nothing. “Albus looks like you.” Scorpius added.

 

“Yes, he does.” Harry admitted, grinning. “Rather like you look like _your_ father, actually.”

 

“What did you and Albus Potter talk about?” Astoria asked as she poured tea into a cup, adding softly to Harry. “How do you take your tea?”

 

“4 sugars, no cream.” Harry replied, smiling and accepting the cup from her as soon as she finished doctoring it up for him. He turned to wait for Scorpius’ answer.

 

Scorpius was chewing his biscuit thoughtfully. He accepted a teacup from his mother – lots of cream and sugar – and gulped down a few swallows before saying. “We talked about how come Mother lives apart from Father and how come you don’t sleep in the same bed as Albus’ mother.”

 

Harry choked on his tea, spitting some out and then coughing. Astoria hastily passed him a napkin – which he used to wipe his mouth – and cast a quick cleaning charm to save the carpet and table. “You talked about _what_?” Harry finally rasped, quite hoarsely.

 

Scorpius looked cautiously between the shocked Harry Potter and his mother, who appeared to be struggling not to smile. “Albus said you and his mother don’t sleep in the same room.” He said slowly, not sure why the man seemed distressed. “I told him Mother and Father have different houses. Then we talked about why. And Albus told me I should make Father promise not to lie ‘cause lying is bad. He said you never lie to him.”

 

Harry swallowed hard, but said quietly. “I don’t lie to anyone. I don’t like lies.” Harry glanced at Astoria, then sighed. “I’m sorry, ‘Ria. I wasn’t expecting... ”

 

“My son to know such intimate details of your life? No, I expect not.” Her voice was quietly amused and she turned to Scorpius. “Why don’t you finish your tea in the playroom, darling? Harry and I need to have some grown-up talk.”

 

“Alright, Mother.” He kissed her cheek solemnly, then gathered up his coloring things and headed towards the door. He didn’t bother grabbing his teacup or any of the food, knowing a House Elf would bring him some as soon as he settled into the playroom. At the door he paused for a moment and then asked his mother. “Are you going to kiss Albus’ father?”

 

Astoria’s lips twitched, but her voice was serious as she answered. “No, Scorpius. I have no plans to kiss Harry. It would hurt your father if I did and you know I’d never do that.”

 

Scorpius considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Goodbye, Mr. Potter.” He sketched another brief bow and then left the room.

 

“You and Draco remain close, despite the divorce.” It wasn’t a question, but Astoria nodded anyway. “I’m surprised you said it would hurt Malfoy if you kissed me. I didn’t realize he still had feelings for you; he seemed more like a close friend than a husband yesterday.”

 

“You’re very observant.” Astoria sipped her tea, then sighed. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you, Harry, since you’ve said you hate lies.” Harry said nothing, simply watching her curiously. “Draco cares about me, but not romantically. He has never had romantic feelings for me, in fact. He loves someone else; more than I had ever realized he could.”

 

“Then why did you say it would hurt Malfoy if you kissed me?” Harry was confused. Realizing what it might seem like, he hastily added. “I’m not saying you _should_ kiss me, though. I don’t... that is, you aren’t... I... ” He blew out a sharp breath when Astoria snickered then said softly. “I’m not attracted to you and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

 

She grinned at him. “I know, Harry. I don’t intend to kiss you, as I said, and I’m pleased you don’t want to kiss me either.” She paused for a moment, then said. “Draco is in love with you.” When Harry began to laugh, she sighed. “I’m serious.”

 

She explained swiftly, seeing the shock on Harry’s face. She explained all about Innocent Intent, too. It took a bit to get through everything, from Draco’s long-standing feelings to the promise Draco had made Scorpius. But she felt it was best if Harry understood _everything_. How else could he be expected to make the correct choice, after all? And Astoria did so hope Harry would make the right choice. Perhaps if Draco were happier – and now that they had begun to repair the friendship between them – he wouldn’t feel the need to throw himself into his work so much or avoid her. Perhaps then Draco would spend more time with Scorpius.

 

She finished off her explanation with a tired smile. “So if you don’t believe me, just ask him yourself. He won’t be able to lie.” She looked at Harry beseechingly. “I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you might hurt him or use this against him, Harry. But you aren’t that sort of person. I just knew that he’d never tell you himself and... well, I’d like for him to have the chance to be happy.” Her long, elegant fingers curled tightly into fists; her perfectly-manicured nails dug painfully into the soft flesh of her palms. She added forcefully. “He _deserves_ a chance to be happy.”

 

“I have to leave.” Harry said abruptly. He stood and set the teacup he’d been clutching on the tea cart and turned to give Astoria a frantic, wild-eyed look. “I’m sorry. I just... I can’t. I have to go.”

 

As he rushed towards the door, she called out. “Harry!” When he froze, his fingers hovering just above the doorknob, she said. “He’s more fragile than he seems. Don’t hurt him.”

 

Harry said nothing, but his head bowed for an instant and a strange sort of shiver shook Harry’s body for a few seconds. Then, Harry fled.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco, not wishing to have Harry Potter knocking on his door, had Jamie compile a list of the potions he had brewed for Abra’s in the past. He owled it in on Monday. It wasn’t a long list; after all, he didn’t often brew anything these days. There was only a single potion he left off the list, and he couldn’t quite make himself feel guilty over it. It wasn’t _really_ a lie; it was an omission – and one that was necessary if he was to keep himself out of trouble. It was bad enough Lucius was likely to spend a year or two in Azkaban again (like he had just after the Dark Lord’s fall), what with the way the Aurors were sniffing around with such determination. Draco didn’t want to be sharing a cell with his father.

 

Having spent a few days getting the hang of avoiding questions he didn’t want to answer, Draco decided to spend a few hours in his office on Wednesday. He didn’t plan on meeting with anyone, and Jamie never asked questions that weren’t work-related, so he figured it was relatively safe. He just needed to slog through some of the paperwork that had been building up on his desk in his absence. Forms to fill out, contracts to read over, dotted lines to sign on... just boring business things that could have waited. But Draco was not one to procrastinate, so he spent half the afternoon and a good part of the early evening catching up.

 

Because he had promptly sent in the potion list, Draco was a bit surprised on Wednesday evening when Jamie poked her head into his office with a wary and slightly harassed look on her pretty face, “I’m sorry to bother you, Draco. I was just leaving for the day, actually, when an Auror showed up for you. Shall I send him in?”

 

Draco felt his stomach twist, but nodded. “Certainly.” He agreed easily. “I’d hate to keep an Auror waiting in the reception area, after all.”

 

Jamie nodded and ducked back out. Draco was surprised when the Auror who stepped into his office a minute later was Timothy Bowers. “Malfoy.” He said coldly.

 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Auror Bowers. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’ve recently discovered just how refreshing honesty is so I won’t.” He leaned back in his chair casually. “What can I do for you?”

 

Bowers looked slightly mad, Draco realized suddenly. There was a wildness about his eyes, and the snarl curling his lip made Draco expect him to start foaming at the mouth. “You filthy Death Eater!” He spat, his voice a bit shrill. “I want you to pay! You keep getting away with this shit and it’s not right. You need to _pay_ for what you’ve done!”

 

Draco’s eyes widened and he began to feel nervous. He wondered if Jamie was still in her office or if she’d left, and he swiftly and discreetly hit the button to activate the intercom. If she _was_ still there, she’d hear everything. “Auror Bowers, you need to calm down.” Draco kept his voice level; he didn’t want to risk agitating the man further. “I haven’t done anything wrong and I was never a _willing_ Death Eater. I was exonerated based on evidence given by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley.”

 

Slightly hysterical laughter followed his statement and the sound chilled Draco. Then Bowers turned those dancing brown eyes back to Draco and said. “You think I can’t tell when money and power are being used to influence those in authority? You think I can’t _tell_ , Malfoy? No, you need to pay.”

 

Before Draco could draw his wand – or do anything – Bowers was throwing something at him. Instinct – and years as a Seeker – had Draco catching the small grey rock before it could hit him. He felt the lurch of a Portkey and groaned, knowing instinctively that he was fucked. And not – unfortunately – in a good way.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Though Draco didn’t know it, hitting that intercom was one of the best things he had ever done. Jamie had, in fact, left for the day. But halfway down to the Apparation Room, she realized she’d forgotten her leftovers from lunch in the little mini-fridge in her office. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared, but she’d had sushi and had planned to give the leftovers to her Kneazle, Abby. With a little huff of annoyance, she walked briskly back to her office and was startled to hear Draco’s voice coming from the intercom box. Hadn’t she told him she was leaving?

 

She heard the end of him defending himself and then listened as the Auror spoke. She felt cold inside and afraid; the man didn’t sound sane at all. When the door connecting her office to Draco’s began to open, Jamie quickly slipped between a filing cabinet and the wall, casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself at the same time. The Auror – who had introduced himself as Timothy Bowers when he’d stopped her from leaving with a demand to see Draco – gave the room a cursory glance before leaving quickly.

 

With a feeling of dread weighing heavily on her stomach, Jamie removed the Disillusionment Charm and made her way quickly to Draco’s office. Her boss was nowhere in sight. For a brief moment, she wanted to cry. Draco Malfoy was strict and demanding but he was a good boss. He gave her a more-than-generous Christmas bonus every year and three weeks of paid vacation for her birthday every August, and he never got angry if she called in sick (which she’d only done three times in the four years she’d worked for him, though once _had_ been for a whole week). She blinked back hot tears, then she straightened her spine and rushed towards the Apparation Room.

 

 She was going to go to the Ministry and report the psychotic Auror who had taken Draco.

 

And though Draco didn’t know it, the _other_ best thing he had ever done was hire a Hufflepuff for his assistant. Jamie Tyler was loyal and hardworking and fierce; she wasn’t going to stop or take no for an answer until _someone_ found her boss.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco wasn’t pleased. The Portkey had landed him in a cheap hotel room in the midst of four people – 3 men and a woman – who were all glaring at him. He’d been promptly disarmed and tied to a spindly wooden chair. He didn’t recognize any of the people present which bothered him. How could people he didn’t even know hold so much animosity for him? It wasn’t fair. When Bowers Apparated into the room about 15 minutes later, Draco tensed. The man was holding a wooden box... and Draco recognized it right away.

 

It read _“Abra’s Apothecary”_ in blue block letters on the side of it, and Draco knew it contained potions. He wasn’t certain _what_ potions, precisely, but he could take a pretty good guess. The odds were that the box held a round of the black market potions Lucius Malfoy sold through Abra’s. Draco couldn’t help but wonder what, precisely, Bowers was planning on doing with the contents of the box. The very idea terrified him.

 

Tim placed the box on a small table and sneered at Draco. “Well, well. Look at you, Malfoy. Maybe now you know how all your poor victims felt during the war. Helpless. Frightened. Hopeless.”

 

Draco lifted his chin defiantly, glaring. “I didn’t have _victims_ during the war, Bowers. I _was_ a victim! I was the one who was backed into a corner and forced to see and do horrible things.”

 

Tim’s face twisted with fury. “Of course, Malfoy. That’s how you and your mother avoided Azkaban isn’t it?” He snarled angrily. “You two claimed you were _forced_ to do what you did.”

 

“It wasn’t a _claim!_ It was the truth!” Draco gritted his teeth when the group before him hissed and jeered in denial of his words. “We were spared Azkaban because we each saved Potter’s life.” Draco continued, unsure why he was bothering to defend himself. “You don’t have to believe me; I can’t force you to. But ask Potter. He’ll tell you.”

 

The only woman in the room – a slightly-chubby brunette with suspicious blue eyes who was about Draco’s age – stepped closer. “I don’t see why we should bother asking Harry anything.” She spat. “We know the truth. The scar on your arm is proof enough. You were a Death Eater; branded by Voldemort himself. You can’t deny that, just like you can’t deny letting the other Death Eaters into Hogwarts.”

 

Draco sighed, but nodded. “It’s true, I was Marked. And I did let the Death Eaters in. But I didn’t have a choice. The Dark Lord was holding my mother hostage. He would have killed her if I disobeyed.” Draco made his eyes wide and pleading, turning the full force of his beautiful silver eyes on the woman. “What would you have done in my place? I was little more than a child. I was terrified for my mother. I didn’t have a choice.”

 

Draco felt a brief stirring of hope as he saw the woman’s resolve waver. Unfortunately, Bowers saw it as well. “Don’t fall for it, Tricia.” Bowers snapped at her. “He’d say anything to save himself.”

 

Looking shaken and uncertain, Tricia stepped back to rejoin the others. Draco bared his teeth at the Auror in a twisted smile. “So, Bowers. Tell me why you’ve got me tied to a chair. Planning to torture me now, are you? Or are you just a kinky bastard?” He winked and added coyly, in a sultry voice. “Maybe it’s a bit of both, hmmm?”

 

Draco’s knowledge that taunting his captor was stupid was reaffirmed by the sharp crack of being backhanded across the face. His head snapped to the side and his lip split. Draco looked up through his hair – which had fallen into his eyes – and flicked his tongue out to catch the blood at the corner of his mouth. Then he purred. “Oooh, kinky for sure. Do you feel strong now, Bowers? Hit me again... you know you want to.” Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Draco couldn’t seem to stop speaking. He briefly wondered if this was how Gryffindors always felt; Potter had certainly had a tendency to run at the mouth when in a bad situation.

 

Bowers raised his hand again but one of the men stopped him. “Tim, just tell him what’s going on. No point in hitting him, really.”

 

Tim took a deep breath to calm himself and nodded. “You’re right, Mark. You’re right.” He smirked at Draco and gestured to the box of potions. “Recognize this?” He asked, and Draco nodded. “It’s part of the evidence taken when we arrested your father a few hours ago.”

 

“Well fuck.” Draco murmured, a bit cross. Why hadn’t he been contacted? “So if you’ve arrested Father and you’re _so_ sure I’m involved as well, why haven’t _I_ been arrested instead of being kidnapped and tied to a chair like a hostage in a bad Muggle film?”

 

“Because there’s not enough evidence.” Tim spat. “But we know you’re guilty. And we’re not going to let you get away with it. Not like last time, Malfoy. This time, you’ll pay.”

 

Draco felt a frisson of fear shiver down his spine – like an ice cube dropped down the neck of his shirt to slide down his skin. But he kept his face blank and his voice calm. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

Tim gestured to the box. “I’m not really good at potions, Malfoy. Not like you.” Draco didn’t react to Bowers’ words. “So I’ll be generous. I’ll let _you_ ‘pick your poison,’ so to speak.”

 

Draco knew what that meant. The moment he showed fear, Bowers would pour the potion that had garnered such a reaction down Draco’s throat. He’d need to be careful. Even a “harmless” potion could be deadly if brewed improperly. Because of this, Draco never took any potion he hadn’t brewed himself. He didn’t let Astoria or Scorpius take anything he hadn’t brewed, either. And unfortunately for Draco – despite what these anti-Death-Eater fanatics thought – he hadn’t been brewing the potions Lucius sold on the black market. So he had no idea if they were brewed properly or not.

 

The Auror picked up a vial of scarlet potion; Draco didn’t even blink. It was an Obedience Potion; the drinker had to obey every command given until the antidote was administered. Draco had no intention of drinking that. When he didn’t react, Tim set the vial back and picked up one that was a sickly lime-green color. Again, Draco kept his face impassive. He even managed to look a little bored. The potion in question was a medical one; it was used for abortions. If given to someone who wasn’t pregnant – like Draco – it would almost certainly kill them. At Draco’s continued blank face, the man put that one back in the box as well.

 

Tim’s stubby fingers drifted past a bright pink potion that Draco assumed even the idiotic Auror could recognize – Amortentia. Apparently Tim didn’t want Draco under a love potion any more than Draco wanted to _be_ under a love potion. A small thing, but Draco was grateful anyway. The next potion his fingers passed over was sky blue. A De-Aging Potion. Harmless, if brewed properly. Brewed incorrectly, though, it could cause serious complications. Not something Draco wanted to risk, but it didn’t matter since Bowers didn’t pick that one up either.

 

Instead, he plucked up a vial filled with a potion that was a deep, rich eggplant purple. Draco let his eyes widen and his breath hiss in between his teeth. The potion Bowers held was the only type in the box that Draco had brewed himself – it was therefore the only one he knew was brewed flawlessly. It was also the only non-illegal and non-controlled potion in the box. It was only being sold with the others – through back-alley deals – because it fetched a higher price that way. And Draco knew it was safe for him to take since circumstances meant it wouldn’t affect him. It was his best bet; he acted afraid.

 

“Do we have a winner then?” Bowers cooed, wiggling the vial before Draco’s eyes. “Shall we give you your medicine?”

 

Draco shook his head frantically. “Please don’t... ” He begged, his voice cracking slightly. “Please, Bowers... don’t do this.” In truth, Draco wouldn’t have begged if they were pouring pure poison down his throat, but Bowers thought Draco was a coward. So the safest method of deception was to pretend to be what the Auror already believed he was.

 

Tim laughed – a bit hysterically – and unstoppered the vial. Draco made a token protest, squirming slightly, but swallowed the potion down readily enough when the glass was pressed against his lips. He knew it wouldn’t matter since he’d be forced to drink it anyway and there was no point in choking himself on something that wouldn’t hurt him. Better just to drink, really. After Draco swallowed Tim backed up and waited, watching him. The other four watched as well.

 

Draco briefly thought about faking a seizure or something, just to see how they would react, but he wasn’t sure he could keep such an act up for very long. He was just contemplating screaming in mock-anguish – just because he could – when suddenly the door exploded inwards. Draco cringed away from it as much as he could, considering he was tied to a chair, and the others screamed and began to panic as Aurors – led by Harry Potter – swarmed into the room.

 

While the ten other Aurors began to disarm and subdue Draco’s captors, Harry rushed to Draco’s side and hastily unbound him. “Malfoy, are you alright?” He asked, frantically running his hands over Draco’s arms and legs and torso to check for injuries. “What did they do to you? Are you hurt?”

 

Draco stared in shock at the Auror kneeling in front of him then chuckled. “I’m fine, Potter. Your moronic partner there slapped me, but it’s nothing a quick spell won’t fix. No need to go into full Hero-mode on me, I assure you.” He tipped his head to the side curiously. “How did you find me so quickly? I wasn’t taken that long ago.”

 

“When the evidence went missing, we started trying to find a way to track Tim.” Harry explained, casting a quick healing spell at Draco’s busted lip and the cheek that was beginning to bruise. “When your assistant burst in, demanding we find you and pointing the finger at Auror Bowers, I decided the fastest way to track you both down was to use Lucius – who we already had in custody – for a blood-to-blood tracking spell. Only two points lit up – your wife’s house, where Scorpius is, and here. Since you and Scorpius are your father’s only immediate blood relatives, we knew the second point had to be you.” Before Draco could reply, they were interrupted.

 

“There’s an empty potion vial, Harry.” Said an older man – of indeterminate years somewhere between 70 and 130 – who was wearing robes that declared him a Ministry Potions Expert. “It seems to have come from the box, but I don’t know what it was. Nothing is labeled.”

 

Tim was giggling between the two Aurors who had secured him. When Harry turned to glare at him, Tim grinned and said. “Fed it to Malfoy, Harry. Punishing the Death Eater!” When Tim began to laugh, Harry sighed and realized the man belonged in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s. Clearly, Tim wasn’t right in the head.

 

“Do you know what they gave you?” He asked Draco desperately. “You can probably identify every potion in existence. It’ll help us if you know what it was so we can give you something to counter it.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course I know what he gave me. The idiotic prat let me pick which one I took, actually. There’s no counter to it, but it’s fine. It won’t hurt me.”

 

Draco stood, ignoring Harry’s anxious look, and walked over the where the Potions Expert – whose name was Victor Trevi - stood by the box. He reached in and plucked out another of the purple ones, handing it to the man. “This is what he fed me. Like I said, there’s no counter... but it won’t hurt me. It actually won’t affect me at all.”

 

Victor peered at the potion, then at Draco. “You are aware, Master Malfoy, that if this was brewed incorrectly it could be fatal? We must test it to make sure it is, indeed, safe.”

 

“It was brewed perfectly.” Draco said simply. When Victor merely stared at him, Draco sighed. “I’m the one that brewed it.” When the Aurors began to cry out – along with his captors – Draco added. “It’s the _only_ one I brewed and it’s _not_ illegal. Nor is it even controlled.”

 

“Then why was it being sold on the black market?” Harry asked, standing and coming over to look at the purple potion in Victor’s hand. Draco was confident Harry wouldn’t be able to identify it if his life depended on it. “Why not just sell it in Abra’s?”

 

“Discretion, Potter.” Draco drawled smoothly. “People will pay ridiculous amounts for this potion because it’s so difficult to brew. They’ll pay more if the person selling it to them is discreet.”

 

Victor nodded. “It’s true, Harry. This potion is completely legal, in every way.” He peered at Draco then added. “Though clearly Master Malfoy knew about the channels it was being sold through and that must be addressed.”

 

A young female Auror with blonde hair stepped forward cautiously. “Do we arrest him, Harry?” She asked, gesturing to Draco. “I mean, if he knew... ”

 

Harry looked torn, and Draco wasn’t clear on why. What did Potter care if he ended up in Azkaban? “I did know.” Draco said quietly, finding himself unable to lie to this man... and not just because of the magic still working on him. “But I had no part in it myself, beyond brewing a single _legal_ potion. I didn’t report it because he’s my father. I’ll accept the consequences.”

 

Harry studied his face intently for a few moments, then drew himself up and nodded to the woman. “No need to arrest him, Clare. At most, considering the circumstances, he’ll end up with a fine and a slap on the wrist. There’s no need to haul him off for that.” He turned back to Draco and added. “If you promise to show up to court that is, Malfoy.”

 

Draco’s lips formed a smirk. “Of course I’ll show up, Potter.” He purred. “Armed with the best lawyer money can buy, too.”

 

Harry grinned back. “I’d expect nothing less, Malfoy.”

 

Draco nodded then seemed to deflate. He was exhausted, and the potion was beginning to make him feel even sleepier. “”If I could have my wand back, Potter, I’d really like to go home now.” It was still early in the evening, but Draco felt ready to sleep for a week.

 

The Auror Harry had called Clare quickly retrieved the 6 wands collected from those they’d arrested. “I don’t know which one is his.” She said quickly, rushing back across the room with them.

 

Draco was about to step closer and take his wand when Harry picked up the slim piece of hawthorn for him. He smiled and held it out to Draco. “Thank you.” Draco said softly, taking his wand from Harry’s hand for the second time in his life. The first, of course, had been after his trial when he’d been cleared of all charges and Harry had returned it to him.

 

“Just go out the door and turn right. Follow the hallway until you reach the stairs. Once you’re down them, you’ll be able to Apparate.” Harry’s voice was soft, and there was an odd look on the Auror’s face. Draco decided he was too tired to try to analyze it.

 

With a last glance at Harry, Draco turned to Victor again. “I’d like it if you returned the purple potions to Abra’s. Since they aren’t illegal, I mean. There’s no reason they can’t be sold. I brewed them for the purpose of helping people, after all.”

 

Victor nodded. “Of course, Master Malfoy. As soon as I finish the paperwork on them and they’re cleared for release I’ll send them back for sale.”

 

Draco nodded and left the room swiftly, heading first down the corridor and then down the stairs. After a cursory glance around revealed no one present, he Apparated to Malfoy Manor. He just wanted to get some sleep.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thursday evening found Draco in his office once more, waiting for the spell to wear off. Jamie had been concerned about him coming in, but he’d assured her that, though the potion he’d drunk would be in his system for a full week, it would have no effect on him. And his lovely assistant – Merlin bless her sweet little soul – had agreed, without asking any questions, to come in and ask him the time, every hour on the hour. She had been amused by his laughter when – 15 minutes earlier – he had answered with _‘midnight’_ instead of saying 5pm, which it actually was. She didn’t understand – and Draco had no desire to explain – but she was pleased he seemed happy.

 

Suddenly, the intercom on his desk buzzed. He pushed the button. “Yes, Jamie?”

 

Her voice came back, laced with amusement and curiosity. “Harry Potter is here to see you, Draco. Shall I send him in or send him away?” Harry’s laughter echoed through the speaker and then Jamie spoke again, sounding amused. “I think you should see him, personally.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes; Harry rushing to his rescue had made Jamie quite enamored of the man. “Send him in then, Jamie.” When Harry walked into his office a moment later, Draco drawled. “Apparently you’ve got a fan in my assistant, Potter.”

 

“Yeah, well... ” Harry blushed and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t really like having fans, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

 

“Oh, not because you’re the Chosen One, Potter. Jamie’s much too level-headed for that sort of nonsense; I wouldn’t have hired her otherwise.” Draco corrected. “She’s just incredibly happy that you found me so quickly and that I was unharmed.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Harry took a hesitant step closer and Draco was surprised to note the man wasn’t wearing his Auror robes. He had on a pair of snug black trousers and an emerald-green silk shirt instead. “I didn’t realize she was... er... that _close_ with you.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened, then he laughed – loudly and for quite a few minutes. When he finally caught his breath, he said. “Oh Potter, you _are_ amusing. No, Jamie just doesn’t want to lose all the perks of having someone as generous as myself for a boss. She’s eminently practical, you see, and she earns a sizable salary along with paid vacation and a Christmas bonus every year. No, she’d be quite upset if she had to find a new job.” He smiled easily and added. “She’s a very sweet girl, Potter, but she’s not my type.”

 

Harry moved closer until he was standing just on the other side of Draco’s large – and ridiculously expensive – African Blackwood desk. “What is your type, Draco?”

 

Draco startled slightly – both at the husky sound of Harry’s voice and the fact that the other man had called him by his given name. He blinked slowly then said. “Male.”

 

“Ah, I see.” Harry smiled slightly, and Draco realized he didn’t seem surprised. “I know a few blokes who are inclined that way. Maybe I could set you up. Do you like redheads?”

 

“Ew, no.” Draco said swiftly after getting a mental image of Ron Weasley. He watched as Harry began pacing; he realized immediately that Harry was slowly moving closer to him. “Definitely _not_ a ginger, Potter.”

 

Harry chuckled slightly. “Alright; no gingers.” He seemed to consider this while pacing for a few moments then he asked. “What about blondes? Do you like blondes?”

 

Draco bit his lip, watched as Harry reached the side of his desk with his pacing, and made a quick decision. He would tell the truth, despite the fact that he no longer _had_ to. “I’m rather partial to black hair, actually.” He confessed softly.

 

“Really?” Harry asked, and Draco narrowed his eyes slightly when this didn’t seem to surprise Harry any more than the fact that Draco preferred blokes had. “Well, that’s interesting. A bloke with black hair... I suppose I know a couple of those.” He smiled easily at Draco and asked. “Do you like brown eyes?”

 

“No.” Draco replied simply. “I like green eyes.”

 

Harry paused for a moment, studying Draco’s face closely, and then he nodded. “Bloke, black hair, green eyes... right. I actually do know this one man... ”

 

“Oh?” Draco queried in a murmur. “Well, tell me about him then, Potter. I must admit that I’m eager to learn more.” He raised an eyebrow and added. “Since you’re planning on setting me up with the man, I mean.”

 

“Of course.” Harry seemed to be thinking for a moment. The he locked eyes with Draco and said. “Well, he was married.”

 

Draco nodded, watching as Harry stepped around the corner of his desk; now the Auror was only a few yards away. “So was I.” He pointed out easily.

 

Harry blushed slightly and said softly. “He’s actually technically still married, though he has filed for divorce.” He paused for a moment, then added. “On Monday, actually.”

 

Draco struggled not to let his surprise show on his face as he spoke. “As long as he’s getting divorced I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

 

“It didn’t end well, Draco.” Harry warned. “His marriage, I mean.”

 

A wry smile curved Draco’s lips. “Yes, well... they seldom do, _Harry_.” He stressed Harry’s given name, though he wasn’t sure why. “It’s only in the last week that Astoria and I have managed to make amends, actually. It takes time to get to that point, when a relationship dies.”

 

Harry nodded ruefully, and Draco wondered how the man was such a successful Auror when he had no poker face at all. Then he wondered if perhaps if it was just that Harry was open around _him_. “He has children from his marriage.”

 

“And I have Scorpius.” Draco said quietly. “It might be nice for my son to have regular playmates.”

 

Harry had been slowly creeping closer to Draco’s chair; he was only a few steps away when he said in a nervous voice. “He’s a Gryffindor.”

 

Draco briefly considered replying with _“I’m a Slytherin.”_ but swiftly decided not to. He then considered something along the lines of _“I don’t mind.”_ or _“That doesn’t matter to me.”_ He vetoed that idea nearly as fast as the first. He swiveled his chair so he was facing Harry properly and locked his eyes on Harry’s green ones. He saw the pink color slashed across Harry’s cheeks and the fear in the other man’s beautiful eyes. And he knew that this was probably going to be his only chance with the man he’d loved for nearly half his life.

 

Draco took a trembling breath, hope spreading warm and fluttery through his chest, and whispered. “I know.”

 

And Harry lunged.

 

Draco couldn’t help the startled squeak he let out as Harry threw himself forward those final steps. He leaned over the blond, fisted his hands in Draco’s expensive Paul Smith shirt, and yanked the blonde forward to the edge of his seat, sealing their mouths together. Draco whimpered, helpless in the face of his deepest desire come to life, and parted his lips, winding his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s tongue came out to play, exploring the hot, moist cavern of Draco’s mouth. Draco sucked lightly on it, shivering when Harry growled softly.

 

The Slytherin’s head fell back as the kiss broke and Harry pressed his lips to that pale, slim throat. He ran his tongue over Draco’s pulse, then pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses along the elegant column of flesh. “Tell me this isn’t a one-off, Draco... ” Harry’s voice was desperate as he traced his tongue along the shell of Draco’s ear. “Please... say it’s not... ”

 

“Oh Merlin... ” Draco whimpered again as Harry sucked on his earlobe. “No... not a one-off.” He breathed, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of Harry sucking the skin just below his ear. “Want so much more... I want you for forever... ”

 

“Thank god.” Harry replied, using the hands still clutching Draco’s shirt to haul the slightly shorter and quite a bit slimmer man to his feet. He slid his arms around Draco’s waist then down lower, cupping Draco’s ass and pulling that lithe body tightly against his. “I don’t think I could bear to have you only once... ”

 

Both their heads turned sharply at the sound of a gasp from the doorway. Jamie stood, her eyes ridiculously wide and her mouth hanging open in shock, framed in the doorway. The papers she’d been holding lay scattered at her feet and her hands were pressed to her heart. Suddenly, she flushed a dark red and said. “I’m so sorry, Draco! I should have knocked! I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for the day.” She looked down at her feet then peeked back up at the men from under her eyelashes. “If I can be so bold as to say, Draco... and Mr. Potter, of course... the two of you look positively gorgeous together. I’ll just... go now. Good night!”

 

Draco blinked in surprise as Jamie disappeared from the doorway. Seconds later, he heard the door to the hallway outside her office shut and he knew she was gone. He turned back to Harry to find the other man blushing furiously. He considered for a moment what to do before he spoke. “Come home with me?”

 

Harry hesitated for a moment then nodded. “Alright.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Several hours later, Draco was snuggled tightly against Harry’s side. He was sleepy and warm and more satisfied than he could have imagined. He shifted slightly and grimaced briefly. He was also a bit sore, but he supposed it wasn’t too bad, considering. A tender smile curved his lips. His first time as a bottom – something he’d never thought he’d do – had been amazing. As had his second time, a short while later. He had never even considered bottoming before, but with Harry it seemed perfectly right.

 

“Hey, Harry?” Draco asked softly, wondering if the other man had perhaps fallen asleep. When Harry made a soft noise of assent, he asked. “What made you decide to... do _this_?”

 

“Astoria.” Harry replied sleepily, tightening his hold on the slim waist. “She told me you’d been in love with me for ages.” Harry chuckled softly and pressed a soft kiss to white-blonde hair. “She also told me about how you can’t lie anymore.”

 

Draco went unnaturally still at that. “Harry... ” he said, pushing himself up slightly so he could stare down at Harry. “Harry, she told you that that was only temporary, right?”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “No. She just explained how it happened.” Harry swallowed hard, his eyes anxiously searching Draco’s face. “Draco... you... I mean, I asked you because... because she said you couldn’t lie... ”

 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut to make it easier to face what was happening. As soon as he told Harry he could lie again, the Auror would stop trusting him. Not that Draco could blame him, really... but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I was able to lie again as of 5pm today.” He said softly. He opened his eyes and added. “You came in around 5:15, Harry.”

 

“Oh.” Harry took a deep breath then said. “So, were you telling me the truth earlier, when I asked if this was a one-off for you?”

 

“Will you believe me if I say I was telling the truth?” Draco countered.

 

Harry looked shocked. “Of course I will.” He said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I trust you, Draco. If you say you weren’t lying then I’ll believe you.

 

Draco felt the aching pressure in his chest disappear. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips. “I wasn’t lying.” He murmured, scattering more kisses over Harry’s face. “I won’t ever lie to you, Harry. I swear it.” He pressed another, slightly-longer kiss to Harry’s lips and added. “I love you.”

 

Harry smiled sappily up at Draco. “I love you, too.” He blushed and added.  “I have for quite a while, really. I think I first realized it after I cast ‘ _Sectumsempra’_ on you in sixth year.” Harry slipped the hand not wound around Draco’s waist between their bodies and lightly traced the scar on the blonde’s chest. “Seeing you bleeding everywhere… I was so afraid you were going to die and I couldn’t bear the thought.” Draco smiled back, snuggling against Harry’s chest again.

 

Just as Harry was about to drift comfortably off to sleep again, Draco spoke again. “Hey, Harry... do you remember that potion Bowers fed me...?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 **Epilogue** :

 

It had been four months since the day Harry had gone to Draco’s office with the intention of telling the other man that he loved him. It had been four months since he’d filed for divorce after telling Ginny that he was pretty sure he’d been in love with someone else since before he even started dating her. Four months since Draco quietly explained what the potion Timothy Bowers had given him did. A very lovely – if sometimes stressful and insane – four months.

 

It had been two months since Harry’s divorce was finalized. Two months since he’d celebrated by moving into Malfoy Manor with Draco, much to Narcissa’s delight. She was quite fond of Harry, actually, and they got on smashingly well. Lucius was a bit annoyed at _Auror Potter_ living in his house, but since he’d be in Azkaban for two years, it didn’t much matter what the man thought. Draco insisted he’d adjust by the time he was released. Secretly Harry didn’t think Lucius would _ever_ adjust to them being together... but he trusted that Draco could handle his father.

 

It had been a single month since Astoria had turned over primary custody of Scorpius. Draco had made the decision to spend more time at home to take care of his son and Astoria had agreed that as long as he had the time devote to their child she wouldn’t mind giving him custody. So Draco had promoted Jamie to Manager and hired the girl her own assistant so he could spend more time at home with his son. He now went into the office for a total of three hours a day, two days a week. Just long enough to sign papers, really. Jamie was running things with admirable efficiency. Astoria came over a lot, both to see her son and to spend time with both Draco and Harry. The three had become very good friends. Harry had cut back his own work hours so he could have more time with his own children as well as with Draco and Scorpius, all of whom Harry loved dearly.

 

And now Harry was sitting with Ginny while he waited for the children to pack their bags for the weekend, which they’d be spending with him at the Manor. Ginny cleared her throat and said. “I’d like to play Quidditch again, Harry.” When Harry simply stared at her, she added. “The Harpies want me back, but it would mean I’d be gone a lot for practices and games.”

 

“Ginny... ” Harry was stunned and his heart was racing. “If you’re offering me what I think you’re offering me, then you know the answer is yes.”

 

“I am.” Ginny admitted with a soft smile. “You’re the best dad I’ve ever seen, Harry, including my own. I know you miss the kids and I know they miss you.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I still want to see them, of course. I’d expect you to work with me around my schedule so I can see them as much as possible, in fact. But I think it would be good for everyone if you had primary custody.”

 

Harry squeezed her hand back and admitted. “I’m so happy you’re willing to do this, Gin. Because I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask if I could take the kids.” He glanced up at her and added. “You see, Draco and I were talking and we want all of the children to be raised together. We don’t feel it’s right to separate siblings.”

 

Ginny frowned. “Siblings?” She asked, looking puzzled. “I don’t understand. I mean, unless you and Draco get married, the children aren’t siblings. And even then, it’s only _step_ -siblings. Why does it matter if they live apart?”

 

“Well, Draco and I _have_ discussed marriage.” Harry admitted nervously; Ron and Hermione had often chided him for rushing his relationship with Draco. When Ginny simply gave him a surprised – but happy and supportive – smile, he added. “Though we won’t do that for a year or so, I don’t think. He wants to wait until after... ” Harry stopped speaking abruptly.

 

“Until after what?” Ginny asked curiously.

 

“Do you remember the incident with Draco being kidnapped by Tim Bowers?” Harry asked instead of answering Ginny’s question.

 

His ex-wife gave him an exasperated look. “Of course I remember, Harry. It’s sort of a hard thing to forget, considering that you shacked up with Draco the next day.” She tipped her head to the side. “Why?”

 

Harry flushed, dropping his gaze to the table where he idly traced random patterns with his fingertip. “I don’t know if I told you before or not – and I don’t know if the paper reported it since I don’t read that bloody rubbish – but Tim gave Draco a potion when he kidnapped him.”

 

“The Prophet said as much.” Ginny acknowledged. “But it wasn’t mentioned what potion he was actually given.”

 

“No, it wouldn’t have been.” Harry explained quietly, still staring at the table. “Draco didn’t want to tell anyone yet, you see. Because the potion... well, it’s had a lasting effect of sorts.”

 

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry did like to stall and draw things out sometimes. “So what does this potion – and its _lasting effect_ – have to do with you taking custody of the kids?”

 

Harry flushed an even darker shade, took a deep breath to steady himself, and said simply. “Draco’s pregnant.”

 

When the children entered the kitchen a few minutes later, they were confused as to why their dad looked embarrassed and uncomfortable while their mother sat on the floor beside a tipped-over chair and laughed so hard she cried.


End file.
